Page 86 of Unspoken Words
“Let me guess, you sing what you can’t say?” I bit out, crossing my arms over my chest.
He ignored my anger and began strumming the first few chords of a riff, the deep, dark tone instantly reverberating through me. The sound was abrupt and fierce—sadness, longing, and desperation a clear emission through the slow but sharp tempo. I shifted on the spot, but it wasn’t until the oiled timbre of his voice sang lyrics so raw and real that my chest cracked open and my own feelings of despair rooted me still.
Whispering to you
Always wanting more
Only you
Arrived in my thoughts
Only to find you
When the tears start running down
I open up to you
When the tears start running down
I remember the fall
It don’t mean much at all
When the tears start running down
That’s where I wanna be
Blinking back my own tears, I dabbed the corners of my eyes with my fingertips. “There’s a lot of pain in that song, Connor,” I stated, desperately trying to keep my voice neutral.
“That’s because there’s a lot of pain in here.” He slapped his palm over his heart and clenched his fist.
“So why would you want to work with me and dredge up even more? Haven’t we hurt each other enough already?”
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, quietly.
Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath, letting it out as slowly as I could to prevent the emerging fireball he’d warned Jackson about. “I know, but you did, and now our door has long closed. Why reopen it?”
“Because I can’t do this without you.”
I opened my eyes and turned to leave once more. “Sure you can. You’ve been doing it just fine for the past four years.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, the loneliest four years of my life.”
I paused, letting his words settle deep within, where I didn’t want them, where they hadn’t belonged in years. Tears pooled in my eyes, and a sob lodged in my throat; they’d been the loneliest and most painful four years of my life as well, but I couldn’t tell him that, not here, not now.
“I miss you, Ellie,” he choked out. “You havenoidea how much I miss you. And I couldn’t tell you because I swore to let you go if it was what you wanted. I swore I wouldn’t contact you again.”
“I never wanted you to let me go.” I reached for the door handle but didn’t turn it. “Everyday I write you notes I throw away,” I admitted.
A heavy sadness settled around us, and I felt him once again stealing my air.
“I’m sorry, Connor. But you need to find someone else. I can’t—”
“You’re my ever after,” he blurted, his tone desperate.
I looked back at him, tears now streaming my face. “No, I’m not. Ever after doesn’t exist.”
“How can you say that?”
